


Just His Luck

by aurilly



Category: Lost
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, F/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-01
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:31:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/pseuds/aurilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years have gone by since the island (the second time around), and not even the zombie-apocalpyse can stop Frank from finally asking Sun out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just His Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janie_tangerine](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=janie_tangerine).



> Post-finale AU

Two times Frank's found himself stuck on that crazy-ass island. Two times Frank's managed to get himself and a bunch of other people safely off it, and now… Now he's trapped in the zombie-freakin'-apocalypse.

Well, if that just isn't his fucking luck.

If Frank were the kind of guy who believed in fate mumbo-jumbo stuff, he'd say that the universe has it out for him. But he isn't. He's a pragmatist, an optimist, the kind of guy who looks for the silver lining in every situation.

In this case, the silver lining is easy to find; it's sitting right beside him, coolly loading a shotgun like she's been doing it her whole life.

This time, it isn't _his_ fault she's single; this time, the only person---thing?---responsible for Jin's death has already gotten justice. She's okay this time, at peace, able to let go. Three years have gone by (it's always in threes, isn't it?), which is long enough for Frank not to feel skeevy by making a move on her.

That's what he'd come all the way to Korea to do: to woo her the old fashioned way, take it slow, gently win her over. He'd come with all sorts of date ideas in mind, figuring he'd try all of them and see which one worked best: flowers (she liked gardening, right?); board games and gin (that's when they'd bonded properly, that night alone in those funny houses on the island); baseball (fine, that one was mainly for him, okay?).

Obviously, it hasn't worked out that easily. Nothing ever does, and he doesn't know why he ever expected it to. He'd been on his way from the flower shop to Sun's apartment building, trying to calm his rampaging nerves, when this crazy, drooling, blood-thirsty piece of shit had stumbled out of the bushes.

"The hell?" Frank had asked, as the thing lunged at him.

"Rawrgh!" it had replied, as zombies do.

Frank didn't know why there were zombies in Seoul, but he'd taken it in stride, as he took pretty much everything. He'd lashed out with the stem side of the roses, slashing the zombie's jugular open on some thorns before running into Sun's lobby and barricading the door behind him. _Well_ , he thought to himself as he rode the elevator up to her apartment, _at least I'm not nervous about_ this _anymore_. He'd rung the doorbell, the remnants of the bouquet still in his hand. Given that she'd answered the door with a gun, he'd figured she already knew what was going on.

"Frank?" she'd asked, lowering the gun, and he'd been gratified to see relief suffuse her face; maybe all wasn't lost, after all. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, the original plan was to ask you out. But right now I'll settle for you letting me in. Don't worry, I haven't been bitten." She'd smiled grimly as she stepped aside to let him inside. "These were supposed to be for you," he'd said, gesturing with the flowers before throwing them out the window, "but I got zombie blood on them. Sorry."

In some ways, though, things couldn't have worked out better. He doubts he'd have been invited to spend the night under normal circumstances. And it turns out that he _does_ get to carry out at least one of his date ideas.

"It's your move," he says, drunkenly scrambling to his feet in order to get more tonic water for the Tanqueray they're drinking.

She finishes loading the shotgun with a loud click (she says ever since the island---the first time---she's kept an arsenal in her apartment, because you never know) and stares hazily at the board. "I'm passing Go. Collecting my $200."

"Like you need any more money," he quips as he refreshes her drink. "I've already got three houses mortgaged to you." They probably shouldn't be doing this, not with the dull roar of chaos wafting up to where they sit, fifteen stories above the fray, not with the news stations going dark one by one as the studios get attacked. But this is, sort of, what he came for, what he's been dreaming of for too many years, and he'll be damned if he lets anything, even the zombie-pocalypse--- _especially_ the zombie-pocalypse---get in his way. If he's going to die, he might as well go out in style, living the dream.

"You could always foreclose," she says, desperate hysteria lurking behind her serene expression.

"Well, everybody else is doing it, why not me?" He keeps it easy-going and sarcastic, not just because that's his natural temperament, but because he can tell she needs him to. It's nice to be needed.

She laughs, and they make eye contact, not for the first time that day, but for the first time in _that_ way---the way that makes his stomach hot and his head confused.

"The flowers were pretty… what was left of them," she says, trying to sound casual. It's the first time she's acknowledged what he'd mentioned about asking her out.

Frank shrugs, also pretending to be nonchalant, even though his palms have started sweating again. "They made a pretty good weapon. I'll get you a replacement bunch if we ever get to go outside again." As he thinks more about it, he realizes that the flowers are a lot like the woman sitting across the table from him: pretty, sweet-smelling, and unexpectedly fierce.

"What else did you have in mind? I mean, before all this started," she asks. She leans on the table, staring intently into his eyes. He couldn't escape her gaze, even if he wanted to.

"Pretty much this," he replies. "Without the guns, though."

"I would have said yes," she says softly, reaching out and resting her small hand atop his.

Frank lifts himself out of his chair to kiss her from across the table, and knows he'd fight a million zombies to keep this moment going forever.


End file.
